


Restraint

by Zendelai



Series: Dragon Age One-Shots, Drabbles, and etc. [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And the Inquisitor learns the best way to fall asleep, And they're both really loud, Bull learns the best way to wake up, Dirty Talk, F/M, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Smut, The Undercroft gets sexy, just smut really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zendelai/pseuds/Zendelai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of smutty one-shots involving an as-of-yet unnamed Female Inquisitor and Iron Bull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Restraint

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a bit of a writing slump with my long-term projects as of late, so I decided to pull myself out of it with some good old fashioned smut.
> 
> Expect smut and little else. Please note that this does contain light BDSM/bondage.

His tone was husky and deep with desire, like molten lava overflowing, when into her ear he breathed the words, “You’re sure this is what you want, Kadan?”

In contrast she trembled, a helpless bystander in the face of an erupting volcano. “Y-yes. Please. Yes.”

His hand around her wrist was hot and firm, so broad that his fingers could touch the heel of his hand. “Then I suggest you finish your ale, Inquisitor.” Her title hung in the electrically charged air between them. Her throat operating at its top speed, she swallowed the rest of the ale, her eyes watering from the sting of carbonation. Wiping her eyes free she stood, his hand never leaving her wrist as he rose with her and guiding them away, away from the music and the babble, away from the dark cloud which eternally followed the Inquisition in the face of the end of the world.

The air was stiff with silence as she followed him, mindlessly, awaiting what he would show her, teach her.

Before, they had joined; but not like this, never like this.

Her feet nearly left her boots when they were alone, in his room, and the door slammed behind her. The room smelled of him: musk, oil, metal, and faintly, sage.

Not yet had his hand left her wrist.

His hulking, yet comforting, mass was before her, her eyes level with his scarred chest. One day, she would inquire as to the origin of each scar; today, however, was not that day.

His breath into her ear was hot, setting the hair beside it aflutter. “What is your safe word, Kadan?”

The word that came to her mind was the smell that overwhelmed her, emitting from his hot breath. “Whiskey.”

"Whiskey," he repeated in an amused tone. He bent low so that his one eye could meet her pair; he kissed her, chastely, on each cheek.

But after that pair of kisses, any notion of chastity was gone. Rough, wide hands grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. Hungry lips crushed against her own as those hands slid hers up the wall, pinning her in place. Her hips lifted but he pushed them back into place with a thrust of his own; when she moaned, he pushed both her hands into one of his and, pulling away from the kiss, rested one finger on her lips.

His voice was commanding, strong; many times had she heard it on the battlefield, but never before in their shared solitude. “When we are out there, you are the boss. When we are in here, I am.” He pushed her hips, harder, against the wall, and she wordlessly watched him with wide eyes. “You must do as I say. You may only speak when I say so and you may only come when I say so. Have I made myself very clear?”

The rules were set. She nodded, once, firmly, and before an iota of thought could enter her mind he was against her again, rough lips, rougher hands, cupping a breast, clamping a soft inch of skin between teeth. By her hips he lifted her, his hardness becoming evident as she wrapped her legs around him, barely able to hook her feet around his hips.

"Bed," he growled, resting her on her feet again. "Now."

How could anyone have the willpower to say no to such a request?

Before she could sit, he said, “On your knees. Remove your top. Hands behind your back.”

She obliged to his request — his demand — and awaited him eagerly on the edge of his low bed. From his dresser he pulled out two black cloths; one he used to cover her eyes, knotting it behind her head, cautious of her hair, and the other he used to secure her hands, capturing a nipple in his warm mouth and murmuring in her ear that she was a “good girl” when she remained still.

Deprived of her sight and touch, she relied on sound and smell to track him. For a time that stretched to an eternity he stalked around the room before she heard the thump of his drawers hitting the floor.

She felt the heat of his body before her, and she could smell the musk of his cock before she felt the tip graze her lips. Parting them, he swiftly filled her mouth, and she suppressed the moan that rose in her throat as she tasted the salty sweetness that was so distinctly him.

Deep in his throat he groaned as he began to thrust in and out of her moist mouth. Never did he go too deep or too quickly; he remained well within the boundaries that had been drawn from experience. One of his hands reached for her long black locks and his fingers weaved within them, scraping along her scalp; the other he used to cup a perky breast, massaging gently.

When he was ready he slid himself out of her lips, slowly, reveling in the pop her lips made when her mouth was once again empty.

After only a moment, those hands that she had come to love were on her; he flipped her so that she was resting on her shins and lowered her torso until the front of her shoulders were on his pillow.

She was malleable, putty in his hands, awaiting him to fill his next desire with her.

Her drawers and smalls were pulled down to her knees; he lifted her legs, one by one, until she was bare before him.

He kissed her; from the back of her shoulder, up her spine, across her round ass and down her thigh. Running his hands up the inside of her thighs he spread her, her wetness awaiting him.

Lowering his face to her womanhood he spoke, the depth reverberating through her, “You’ve been very good, Kadan. So good, I think I should reward you. Would you like that?”

Simultaneously she inhaled and spoke, “Yes.”

His wide tongue trailed a path up one thigh and then another. He then searched across her pink lips and delved into her womanhood, her spine stiffening as he did. No noise would escape her, however, until he said that she could.

He did his very best to make her break his rule.

Finally, agonizingly, after her wetness was nearly dripping, his tongue found her pearl and began to work it in slow circles, sending wave after wave of electricity through her core. One finger slipped inside her slick wetness, disappearing and reappearing, moving in a dance with his tongue. When she believed that her nerves could take no more, his other hand cupped her ass and began to draw lazy circles at her entrance. Involuntarily, her hips bucked and every nerve seemed to freeze on edge. A languid, slow moan escaped her lips that were swollen from being kneaded by her teeth, and the hand that had been cupping her ass pulled away to spank it.

"Did I say you could come yet?"

"N-no."

He spanked her again.

She loved it.

With even more voracity he resumed; his tongue flicking across her pearl, two of his fingers slipping inside her wetness, and one slick with saliva slipping inside her entrance.

"B…b…." No words came out as she clamped down on her lip again. The heat in her core was reaching a nearly unbearable level, and although she held herself together as well as she could, it was growing out of her control, she needed to explode, the heat needed to escape, to set her veins alight, to —

"Come."

One word, gruffly uttered, and she was undone. She cried his name aloud as wave after wave of sensation berated through her, leaving her gasping and trembling. With one long swipe of his tongue he cleaned away all her juices, and she shivered in response.

"Don’t move," he whispered, husky again. He lifted himself to his feet and ran his hands over her sides, her hips, her ass.

Her entrance was so slick that he nearly slipped away; but when he found purchase he slid in, deep, and she threw her head back and cried his name again, earning her another spank.

He began slow, but the sight of her, hands bound, eyes covered, was too great for his willpower. He grabbed her hair and pulled, using the leverage to bend himself low, his teeth coming down on the soft curve of her ear.

"Do you like when I’m rough?" He asked, his voice breathy. Before his question had entirely left his mouth she gasped out a "yes". He drove into her, hard, biting a line down her back.

To her, there was nothing but his cock inside of her. Without her vision he felt amplified, taking over every deprived sense, and before she could think he was fucking her even harder, his pace almost frantic. The heat in her core built again, threatening to overwhelm her. A deep growl ripped from his throat and his hand came down on her ass again, spanking her, harder, and the cry of the word “again!” left her lips before her mind realized that it was exactly what she wanted. When he spanked her once more it was a jolt of sensation directly to the heat building up in her core and it was spreading out, out, from her middle to her limbs to her fingertips and toes. She was shouting, she realized, his name and “yes” and “please” and “Maker” and perhaps something else but she didn’t know, she wasn’t sure, it was garbled because everything felt so good. He was fucking her so quickly, with such need it bordered on desperation, and he was shouting her name, and she was shouting his, and once again she was coming as she felt him spill inside of her.

"B…Bull…"

"Shh…" he whispered, tender now. As swiftly as he could he was pulling out of her, untying her hands, uncovering her eyes, gently rolling her onto her side so that he could curl up behind her.

She was tired, her eyes and limbs so heavy, as he used a clean cloth to wipe down the both of them. He began to massage her back in slow, languid circles.

"Was everything ok?" All aggression was gone from his tone, replaced with kindness and concern.

"More than ok," she breathed, smiling.

"Should we do it again?"

"Maker, yes!" Suddenly she was laughing, and he was laughing, and all the tension in her muscles and soul dissipated in the care of his tender hands and kisses.

"Thank you," she whispered, the smile not leaving her lips even as she slipped into the warm arms of sleep.


	2. Whispered Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Bull’s mouth is as dirty as his mind. 
> 
> Luckily for him, the Inquisitor’s is too.

The Inquisitor was a woman who wasn’t afraid to made demands to fulfill her needs. If the Inquisition needed elfroot, a scouting party would be on their way to the Hinterlands by sunrise. If she required a stronger sword before venturing into the barren Hissing Wastes, Harritt would be at the forge posthaste, sweat pouring from his brow as he crafted her the finest sword they could afford.

Yet when faced with making a demand to one particular qunari, she found herself trembling and nervous, like a child asking their parent for another slice of pie when they had already eaten three.

With Bull, she was becoming greedy.

She doubted that he was bothered by this.

In his usual chair she spotted him, tankard of ale in hand, posture wide and relaxed. He had that way of appearing comfortable regardless of his surroundings. It was part of what made him both imposing and attractive.

For a fraction of a moment, she slipped into the shadows to watch him. In his element he was even more confident, yet his eye darted around his surroundings; comfortable, but not unwary.

Through the shadows his eye fixed on her, and the fire that passed between them caused moisture to pool between her legs.

Slowly, calculating his every move, he placed his tankard on the table, lifted himself with the power in his broad shoulders, and approached her, his sharp eye never leaving hers.

He stepped before her, blocking out all light from the tavern, and, with his wide hands on her narrow wrists, pushed her against the wall behind her, his breath hot on her neck.

Into her ear he whispered, “Meet me in the undercroft at midnight.” He bit her earlobe playfully before pulling away, giving her no more words or signs of affection.

She was positively soaked with anticipation.

–-

The undercroft was blissfully empty when she arrived; she was in no mood to come out with an excuse to send Harritt and Dagna to their beds. Although no candles were lit, the moon was full, setting alight the tools of the Inquisition’s crafters in pale silver. She ran her fingertips over the hammers, weapons stands, crates of runes, and every other tool designed to keep the Inquisition well-equipped. She reached the end of the undercroft and leaned over the railing, the breeze from the waterfall pushing stray hairs from her forehead. She wore naught but a silk robe tied at the waist, and a gust blew it open, tickling her bare breasts with a cool breeze.

Just as she closed her eyes and lost herself to the music of the water, broad, warm hands grasped her wrists, securing them behind her. Strong teeth planted into her shoulder, and she could feel his hardness press into her lower back.

More than anything, she needed to feel him inside of her again. For weeks she had traveled across the Graves without him at her side; for weeks when she had retired she had to bring herself to the brink before she could sleep.

Every time, it had been Bull in her thoughts, his lips pressed against her bare skin, his hands holding her in place, his cock filling her.

Now that she had returned to him, she could barely wait any longer until she felt him again, and a shiver of anticipation racked through her at the thought.

“It’s been so long, Kadan.” His voice was strained as he spoke; he felt the same anticipation as she. His free hand stroked down her back, parting her legs to press against her bare wetness. And,  _oh_ , she was wet, and how he groaned when he felt it.

“I thought of you every night,” she whispered, her voice drawn from her throat by need.

“Did you?” He chuckled, low in his throat, yet his question was conversational in spite of the fact that his finger was circling her warmth. “And what did you do, when you thought of me?”

Her voice was even lower when she muttered, “T-touched myself until I came.”

His hand lifted from her wetness to rest on her ass before he laid down one swift spank. “You’ve been naughty, have you?”

“Yes.” She was so thirsty, thirsty for  _him_ , as parched as a woman lost in the desert for weeks without sign of water; she had her first glimpse of an oasis, but she knew Bull, and she knew he would not give her that oasis without a fight.

His hand was now on her back, pushing her over the railing. He secured her hands with a length of leather behind her back and pulled up the back of her robe, leaving her exposed before him.

For the first time, she turned to gaze at him, and she realized with a start that he was already undressed and as hard as she’d ever seen him.

She swallowed when he bent down onto his knees.

She gripped the railing when his curious hands began to explore; her sides, her legs, her loins, anywhere but where her heat was desperately centered. Each touch was a bolt of lightning straight to her core, and when she moaned involuntarily, he spanked her again.

“So naughty…” he whispered. “What did you think of me doing when you touched yourself?”

She shook, and tried to hold herself from becoming undone at his question. At first, when he would have asked her such a question, she would have stuttered out a safe lie; now, she trusted him, and she knew that he would respect – and likely act on – the dirty truth.

“Your tongue. On my pussy and my ass.” Again, she shivered. “Your fingers inside of me, at the same time. You…” She swallowed down the nerves, “Spanking me and pulling my hair while you fucked me, hard, screaming my name, coming–” She bit her lip to stop herself, blood rushing to her core in such strong anticipation she could barely quell her need. When she felt his finger, already soaked with her desire, slip inside her wetness, she cried out his name. “You dreamed of this, Kadan?” he asked, his words barely audible over the rush of the waterfall. The moisture in the air was pooling between her breasts. “And this?” he dove down and slipped his tongue along her slit, the sudden rush of pleasure so powerful that the edges of her vision began to blur.

Her brain had turned to ice, causing all the words to slip, any articulation finding it impossible to grab purchase. “Y-yes,” she managed, and when another damp finger slid down her spine before diving inside her, all thoughts, all words, left her, leaving her with only pleasure, only  _Bull_.

Three times over he was pleasuring her, assaulting her senses in turn, and she could only gasp and moan and cry his name, over and over, as he twice filled her while his tongue crafted patterns along her clit. Her body was set alight by fire and then swiftly cooling, the variation in sensation so great that she had to lock her knees to prevent them from buckling.

His was Bull, The Maker-given Iron Bull, and he was  _hers_.

She screamed, “Bull!” as, like the water before her, pleasure rushed through her body, crashing at her core, and she trembled in ecstasy, her peak leaving her both spent and desiring more.

“Kadan…” his broad hands roamed over her bare skin, gripping the most ample flesh.

“I need you.” There was no doubt in her voice when she spoke; now that her exodus was reached, her body was screaming for him. “Now.”

Even a man with a will as strong as Bull’s could not resist such a request; there was barely a pause before she felt his need pressing at her entrance, wanting to fill her, wanting to drive into her.

“Please,” she begged, and he was undone, the resistance he crafted falling aside in the wake of his body’s demands. He entered her and she cried out again, his body pressing against hers as he filled every crevice of her. He began to move swiftly, entering and exiting, a low groan starting in his chest that escaped through his mouth.

“This is what you want, Kadan?” he grasped her hair and pulled back, bringing his throat to her mouth so he could press his teeth to it. His movements were jagged and raw, pulling her apart at the seams as he fucked her. She gripped the railing for leverage as he drove into her, again and again, the growl low in his throat turning into a cry, and when he spanked her once more her seams became undone. She screamed his name, over and over, as she came, her pleasure spilling out of her as she was unraveled, all energy spent; Bull, too, had been crying out for her, and he, too, was spent, leaning against her back for support, trembling.

She turned around to face him, and, before pressing a kiss to his lips, whispered, “That was  _exactly_ what I wanted.”

–-

Groggily, the Inquisitor stumbled into the tavern, ordering coffee, eggs, and sausage links for breakfast. Varric swiftly occupied the empty seat beside her, wearing one of his trademark I-know-something-you-don’t grins.

“Morning,” she muttered warily.

“And a good morning to you, Inquisitor! And what an excellent morning it is, too, especially when you get screwed silly in the undercroft the night before.”

Her jaw dropped nearly to the floor. “I… you… it… what?!”

Varric was infuriatingly smug and self-satisfied when he stood and clapped her shoulder. “You’re not very quiet, you know. Half of Skyhold knows where you two were last night.”

Her cheeks set aflame and she fixed her gaze on her newly arrived coffee, trying as hard as she could not to meet anyone’s gaze.  


	3. Sleep Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor can't sleep.
> 
> Yet.

Sleep was eluding her, as sleep often did. She had drifted off a few times, but always woke with a gasp, a thousand different outcomes at the Winter Palace haunting her dreams.

 

She was Maker-damned awful at the whole political aspect of the Inquisition, so in response, they're sending her into the den of snakes and telling her to play nicely.

 

The Empress was doomed.

 

She sighed and rolled over to face Bull, barely visible through the first red rays of daybreak; he was lying on his back, snoring quietly but contently, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He had a wondrous habit of always sleeping in the nude -- regardless of whether they were in their shared tent or in Skyhold, the man truly had no modesty -- but she never complained. On the contrary, she was grateful when he slept in the nude. She needed rest, and few things exhausted her more than rolling in the sheets with him.

 

A sly smile lighting up her face, she began to roll down their shared sheet; bless his soul, he was even hard when he slept. Perhaps he was dreaming of a particularly memorable romp of theirs.

 

Trying her best not to wake him and ruin her fun, she slowly crawled down his body and positioned herself between his legs. She pressed her lips against the tip of his hardness, opening her mouth wide to fit him as deep as she could, pleased when he began to stir. His hands gripped the sheets below him and he groaned. Gripping the bottom of his shaft, she began to suck, working him in and out of her mouth. His eye flew open and his back arched in pleasure, a loud, unrestricted moan escaping him.

 

Pumping his cock with her hand, she pulled her head up to shush him.

 

"Kadan..." he moaned, positively writing in the sheets, his mouth wide as he tried to form more words yet they escaped him as she continued her ministrations with her mouth. She ran her tongue along his length before fitting him inside her hot mouth once again, her hand and mouth working in alternate rhythms. Bull clasped his hand over his mouth to silence himself and he squirmed beneath her as he held in his noises of pleasure.

 

Maker, he was sexy.

 

She pushed his length deep down her throat, as far as she could, and when she began to moan, Bull let out a short, sharp growl.

 

When she glanced at his expression, his eye was wide but bloodshot from sleep and he was biting his bottom lip as his hand reverted back to gripping the sheets. Together, her hand and mouth began to work quickly and Bull gripped her hair, his hips bucking into her as he began to reach the edge. She could feel his nails digging into her hair as she worked faster, faster, until with a shout of her name he spilled his seed into her mouth, and she took it greedily.

 

Panting from exertion he pulled her up to him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. She watched his chest rapidly rise and fall, and he sighed contentedly, whispering "Fuck" before letting out a bout of hushed laughter. "What did I do to deserve that?"

 

She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. Seemed like the right thing to do."

 

His brow was raised when he turned his head to face her. "Maybe I can help you sleep."

 

"Maybe." Raising her brow back at him, she lingered on the 'a'.

 

"You are insatiable," he growled, pressing his lips to hers while laughing.

 

She retorted, "You love it."

 

He pressed a kiss to her jaw, "I," her neck, "really," her collarbone, "do."

 

When at Skyhold in the comfort of her own quarters, she preferred to sleep in the nude; when in their tent, she slept in a tunic and smalls, in case she needed to rise quickly for an emergency. Bull swiftly pulled her tunic overhead, caressing her newly bare skin with a tender touch; she shivered beneath his cold fingertips. Once he reached her hips, he kissed and nibbled on them, pulling away her smalls with his teeth.

 

"Mmm..." Bull kissed up her thighs, each press of his lips tightening her skin, leaving a trail of sensation. Her hips wiggled in anticipation as he neared her wetness, yet he exercised patience; he kissed inside her thighs, her mound, her hips, setting afire everywhere he touched. When her entire body was tingling, he licked her wetness in one long sweep, and she cried his name out and arched her back in pleasure.

 

And he had the nerve to shush her.

 

Bull was as much of a master with his tongue as he was with his cock; he teased her with gentle pressure before plunging his tongue inside of her. He varied patterns and pressure, bringing her closer to the edge before pulling away. When her breath began to increase and her flush crept down her chest, he pulled away entirely, kissing the sensitive skin inside of her thighs.

 

When he filled her with two fingers, she nearly came then. Kissing her hips, her thighs, and her stomach, he fucked her with his fingers, curling inside of her. Like a coil spring she tightened up, her head falling back, each breath accompanied by a small moan.

 

As she neared her peak, his mouth rested on her clit again and he swirled in heavy circles, his hand moving in unison, until the coil inside of her burst, sending sensation from her core out to her wetness and each of her appendages. Her hips bucked up and down as the pleasure came in waves, whispers of "Bull" and "Maker" coming out in garbled whispers.

 

He kissed up her overly sensitive skin, and she shivered with each touch. Her eyes were closed in contentment when he pressed his lips to her, and he tasted salty and brassy.

 

"You're good at that," she whispered, punctuating it with a giggle.

 

This time it was he who snuggled into her shoulder, the light from daybreak still falling faint into her tent. It was early enough, she knew, that she may yet be able to get in some much needed sleep.

 

And with the warmth of Bull's body beside her, she fell asleep in minutes.

 


End file.
